seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Australia
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from China
seen from China
seen from United States
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seen from United Kingdom
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seen from China
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seen from Romania
Another underage customer. Excusing himself from the bar with a subtle half-nod to Angie (who had her hands full with the Sevechi brothers), he approaches the kid with a subtle smile. Briefly he can't help but wonder if the underage crowd is all together in one little group. Wouldn't that be something.
"Evening," comes the greeting and his smile turns friendly out of habit. "What can I get you?"
Then there were the tricky ones that looked the right age but could in theory be underage. One miscalculation and it'd mean a heavy fine and instant termination. For all the quirks The Bar had, well, he would rather keep his job. Which is why he finishes stacking the clean glasses away and gives the boy (man?) a quick once over.
"I'm going to have to see some I.D. if you want anything other than soda or juice," he offers that smile he's all but perfected after half a dozen times. "Feel free to order something to eat though." Motioning for Mr. Underage Man to follow him, he seats him at a table and places a menu in front of him.
Celebrities especially were not on The Bar's guest list, though things were slowly turning around. Regardless it can be chalked up to a lack of hearing news outside of Gotham that he doesn't recognize the man who comes in next. It doesn't take a genius however to know the guy in the expensive looking suit has some kind of power to wave about. He knows the signs when he sees them.
"Evening Sir," comes the standard greeting coupled with a friendly smile. "What can I get you tonight?" Best to play it close to the chest to remain safe as he can. Who knew a day to day job could boil down to Simon Says: Survival Edition.
This was the rarity. See, they didn't serve many people around his age here at The Bar (the name itself would never get old) so to see one walk in looking like a lost puppy-- Well, he can't help but offer a friendly hand.
"You look like you've lost your way," he says as he continues to wipe away the spilled whiskey courtesy of their usual patron with the loud mouth, constant sob stories, and blotched face stained with tears. Really, he's seen a lot working here, but it's a breath of fresh air seeing someone who seemed to be around his own age.
"What can I get you?"
Yet another familiarity comes sauntering in the bar.
Wiping off the hardwood top with a rag, a brief glance is given towards the kid who slips on in. A certain sense of nostalgia sinks in alongside amusement. It wasn't too long ago that he himself tried to sneak into dives and bars trying to see what all the fuss was about.
"Hey kid," he greets still ever with a smile, "I hope what you're looking for is a soda or something."
Thankful for the early shift after such a long night, the smile comes a bit easier this time and he leans slightly against the bar to regard the man coming in. They get all kinds, he knows this, yet it's still a pleasant surprise when sometimes the customers look somewhat respectable. How often did a man visit a bar in Gotham and wear shoes that nice?
"Evening, what can I get for you?"
"Evening," he greets with the same practiced and calculated tone. Drying out a few of the mugs, his movements halt and both glass and rag are set aside for the time being. A pleasant smile is offered, no teeth and all polite charm. They got all sorts here at the bar down in Gotham and unfortunately he had to work a double shift until Richard came back from his break.
"What can I get you?"
